New Recruit
by Bellantara
Summary: Allura steps into Sven's shoes when he is injured, finding a new freedom in the role. And someone finally has the courage to reveal his feelings. . .
1. Chapter 1

Keith and Lance sat quietly in the team ready room, exhaustion and grief aging them far beyond their 22 years. Traces of Sven's blood were still evident on their shirts, hands, and Lance's leather jacket, but neither of them noticed, lost in their own thoughts. It was a sign of how bereft they were that neither of them noticed Nanny and Coran coming in the room, and only looked up when the older man gently cleared his throat. "Keith, Lance," he said gently. "You wanted to see us?"

Keith shook himself. "Uh, yeah, we did. Please, sit down, both of you." He waited until they were settled, then said, "Sven's transport made it to Ebb, with him still stable. But. . . it's going to be a very long time before he can fly again, if he ever can."

Nanny crossed herself. "Ach, de poor boy," she tsked. "I hate to tink of de risks you boys take. Vhat vas he tinking, fighting dat horrible vitch alone?"

Lance's head jerked up, fire in his eyes. "He was _thinking_, 'get my teammates and the innocent bystanders to safety, even if it costs my life'," the Red Lion pilot snapped. "He was doing what we came here to do!"

"Easy, Lance," Keith cautioned, putting a hand on his new second's arm. "She didn't mean anything by it." Lance settled back into the couch, still grumbling, and Keith turned his attention back to Coran.

The royal advisor looked troubled, worrying at his mustache. "Without Commander Holgersson, we don't have Voltron, which leaves us highly vulnerable to attack. How long before you can get a replacement pilot from Galaxy Garrison? Will it help if Arus makes the request?"

Keith shook his head. "There will be no replacement from Garrison. They made it clear when we left that we would be on our own out here, that all their resources were taken up fighting the rest of the Drule Supremacy. So, there's no point in asking, they won't send anyone."

Nanny gasped. "No von at all? Den vhat are ve going to do? Zarkon vill kill us all!"

"That's what we wanted to talk to you both about." Lance leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "We're going to have to train our own replacement, from here on Arus."

"A fine idea," Coran approved. "There are any number of young men in the caves. . ." he trailed off at a headshake from Keith and an audible snort from Lance. "A problem?"

"You could say that." Keith sighed. "No disrespect to your people, Coran, but. . .they've hidden like rabbits since we got here. While we can understand, and sympathize with, their position, that's not something any of us want at our backs in combat."

Typically, it was Lance who cut to the chase when the older people frowned in confusion. "We want to train Princess to fly Blue."

Nanny exploded. "You VHAT? Out of de question! Ve cannot haf de Princess zooming around in de sky, risking her life. . . she does not know how to fly!"

"We know." Keith's voice was quiet, but held all of his command authority. The advisor and governess were both silenced immediately. "The team has been discussing training her as an emergency backup since we arrived, and she's been on checkrides with me, Lance, and. . .and Sven. She's got the reflexes, and the aptitude for flying. With the right training, she'd equal any one of us."

"Out of the question!" Coran boomed. "She is the heir to the throne, you cannot expect her. . ."

"Actually, we can." Lance's green eyes blazed. "Ever since we set foot on this planet, she's been the only one to want to help defend it. Besides, think about it. She's in danger anyway, being the ruler of the planet. At least if we train her to OUR standards, she has a fighting chance!"

"Besides, you seem to think we are asking your permission." Keith was gone; the cool, analytical Voltron Force Commander spoke in his place. "We have no chance without a fifth pilot; she is the best candidate available. Lance, Hunk, Pidge and I have discussed this. If she is agreeable, and we believe she will be, we will give her the same practical training the four of us had."

Nanny sputtered. "B-but. . .you four are soldiers. The Princess cannot possibly manage the training you have had! Women are far more delicate!"

"I can think of a couple of women who would prove you wrong on that," Lance drawled. "And Allura's not the fragile, delicate thing you two are determined to make her. She works out with us, she's fought to defend the castle. .. .give her credit."

"Yes, please do, all of you." The voice from the door startled the four of them; they looked up to see Allura standing there. "I was coming to offer to fly Blue until Sven can; then I heard you all talking. Nanny, Coran; I am no longer a child to be fussed over. I rule Arus, and will do what is needed to keep my people safe." Coran opened his mouth to protest; she held up a hand. "This is not open for debate. Without Blue Lion there is no Voltron. Without Voltron the kingdom falls. I WILL join the Force, and take whatever training the boys decide is necessary."

"Glad to have you, Princess." Keith got to his feet and came to shake her hand; Lance followed suit. "I won't lie to you; this is going to be the hardest thing you've ever done."

Lance nodded. "We won't go easy on you, because we can't. Our lives, and more importantly, yours, hang on what we teach you. So it's going to be tough." He grinned. "But I know you'll kick ass at it, and be as good as any of us."

"I won't let you down," Allura said softly. "I'll make you proud of me, all of you."

"You already do, Princess." Coran stood, ignoring Nanny's pulls on his coat sleeve. "Keith and Lance are right; it is as much your place to fight for this world as it is to rule it. And I know your father would be quite proud of you."

"We already are, Princess," Keith said quietly. "You've done way more than any of us ever expected you to, and all four—no, five—of us are proud to have you on the team." At Allura's questioning look, he elaborated, "Sven came to me about a week ago, proposed training you as a backup pilot, was even going to do the training himself." He hesitated, then continued, "He can't now, but Lance and I will be honored to teach you. Welcome to the Voltron Force, Princess. . ." He put a hand in his pocket, then withdrew it and extended it to Allura, opening his fingers to reveal Blue's key.

Allura solemnly took the key from her new commander's hand. "Thank you, Commander. I know I have a great deal to learn."

"And you'll start tomorrow morning at 5 am with the rest of us," Lance put in. "Get your rest tonight, Allura; you'll need it in the morning." He smiled softly at her. "And I know you're going to blow us away."

The princess took that as her cue to say goodnight, boldly kissing each of her new teammates on the cheek as she left. As soon as she was gone, Coran looked to Keith and Lance. "Do you really think she can handle it?"

Keith ran a weary hand through his black hair. "If we didn't, we wouldn't have offered, Voltron or no Voltron. Look, Coran. . ." he sighed. "It's been a long day from hell, I'm beat, I know Lance is too, and we both. . .just need some time alone. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Coran hesitated, wanting to discuss Allura's safety and what they planned to teach her, but then he took a good look at the two men—boys, really—in front of him, and truly saw their weariness and heartsickness at the loss of Sven. "Certainly, Keith. Both of you go get some rest; we can talk tomorrow." They nodded slowly and mumbled good nights, stumbling out of the room. Coran watched them go, then spent most of the rest of the night convincing Nanny that Princess flying was not the end of the world, and would actually do her good.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks after being flown to Ebb, barely clinging to life, Sven Holgersson was strong enough to be allowed out of medical stasis on a limited basis. His first words were to demand the status of Arus and Voltron; the news that Arus still stood and Voltron still flew baffled him, until his pain-and-drug-deadened mind produced the memory of a late night discussion with Keith and Lance, and the conclusion that Allura was undoubtedly flying in his place. Once that realization developed, he asked the healers for pen and paper, desperate to send word to his friends. The first time he tried writing, though, his body let him know in no uncertain terms that it wasn't up for such exertions. Which led to him nervously facing a data recorder. . . .

The package from Ebb had the entire Force curious; there was one data wafer to the entire team, one to Lance, and one to Allura. Keith took the team one and slipped it into the main console; five seconds later, a pale, bandaged Sven, eyes haunted and face drawn with pain, looked down at them. "Hello, my friends. I chust vanted you to know dat I am doing vell, and hope to be back vit you soon. Sorry dis isn't longer, but I don't haf much strength, and you all know I am no talker. Take care." The screen went to black; the stunned team went their separate, silent, ways to ponder what had happened to their Norwegian friend.

As soon as everyone left, Lance took the chute to Red, holding Sven's data wafer as if it burned him. He couldn't imagine what the Viking had to say to him; his mind was only too happy to provide possibilities. Thinking of curses in the three languages Sven was fluent in, plus a heap of blame and recrimination, with a side of guilt, had Lance paralyzed in the command chair, unable to slot the wafer into Red's control console. He had no idea how long he sat there before Red growled at him to man up and get it over with; stunned, he eased the wafer into the console. Sooner then he would have liked, Sven was staring at him, clearly exhausted and in pain but with all of his customary determination in his eyes. "Min bror," the Norwegian said softly. "Vhat you have gone through since I left, I can only imagine. Dis vas not your fault. I knew vhen I saw Haggar standing over you dat I vould not fare vell against her. Never did I tink I vould valk avay, but I could do no different dan I did." He took a breath and sat forward, fixing Lance with the intense gaze that was uniquely Sven. "Promise me, min bror. Do not let guilt for dis consume you. It vas my choice, und mine alone." He sagged back against his pillows, face white, and weakly waved off someone Lance couldn't see. "Von more. . .promise," he whispered, strength clearly fading. "Take care of dem, Lance. Vatch over de team, und de prinsesse, until I get back. Und I svear to you . . .I vill be back vit you all. Farvell."

The message ended, leaving Lance staring unseeing at a blank monitor. Slowly tears began to trickle down his cheeks, until he put his head down on the controls and began sobbing. Sven always knew him better than anyone else, and in just a few words had laid all of Lance's fears and guilt to rest. He cried for what seemed like forever, wrapped in Red's warm presence, then sat up, wiping his eyes. "I promise, brother mine," he whispered. "I'll keep them safe for you."

Back in the castle, Allura had taken her message to her room, locking the door against even Nanny before curling up with her datapad, eying Sven's message. What could he have to say? Would he be angry that she had taken his place? Upset that the team had to rely on her, a little girl with no training whatsoever? Hands shaking, she put the data wafer in the player and waited for the message to begin.

Sven looked surprisingly good, until she looked into his eyes and saw the pain he was trying to hide. "Hello, min lille prinsesse, or should I say min teammate?" he greeted her quietly. "The healers tell me Voltron still fights; I can only guess dat Keit und Lanse haf taught you to fly my Blue. Part of me is proud, and knows you vill do vell. Part of me, dough, veeps dat you haf to." His mask slipped, and she saw the pain wash across his face. "I do not haf much time left; belief in yourself, lillesøster. Know dat _I_ belief in you. Listen to Keit, to Lanse. Dey are fery gud at vhat dey do, und fery gud at teaching it." His face was white, his voice fading, but the determination was clear in his ice blue eyes. "Stay safe, little von. Vatch min brors' backs. And remember. . .remember I luf you." He sagged back against his pillows, eyes closing, and the recording went dark to the sound of Allura weeping. A short while later, she dried her eyes and raised her head, jaw set and eyes grim. Slowly she got up from her bed and went into her bathroom, taking the rare step of closing the door behind her.

The next morning, when Keith and Lance came outside yawning and stretching for their own physical training, they were brought up short by the sight before them. Allura stood waiting, with not a hint of pink or ruffles anywhere near her. Instead, she was dressed in form-fitting black pants and tshirt that the pilots recognized as standard Academy training uniform. Even more startling, her hair had been cut to her shoulder blades, and was pulled back in a no-nonsense French braid. "Sven gave me the clothes several weeks ago," she said as they walked up. "He planned to start training me, with or without you two, but. . ." she shrugged and a fire kindled in her blue eyes. "I have seen too many people I care about fall to the Drules. It ends now. With me. Do your worst, gentlemen."

"Sure thing, Princess," Keith began, but she cut him off.

"The princess lives in the castle, sheltered and protected, cowering in fear. Out here, I am Allura. And only Allura. Understood?" The stunned pilots managed to nod. "Good. Now. I want the same training you two have. Nothing held back. Shall we begin?" She took off running without waiting for them; after a minute they pulled themselves together and followed her.


	3. Chapter 3

Allura was hiding from Nanny again. The old woman was determined, despite orders from Coran, Lance, and an increasingly frustrated Keith, to somehow turn her back into the delicate porcelain princess she had been when the Force arrived on Arus. _Not in this lifetime,_ the princess turned pilot thought grimly, creeping through her castle with all the stealth Keith and Lance had trained into her, avoiding all the security cameras and overprotective governesses. Six months of training with Keith and Lance had transformed the sheltered, soft-spoken young girl into a warrior, more than capable of holding her own in battle. Though she would never equal their skills with a weapon or in combat, the boys had told her repeatedly that they were proud of her, and couldn't ask for a better teammate.

After what seemed like hours of skulking through the halls, she arrived at the one-time reception room that the team had cleared and turned into what Keith called a dojo. As she put her hand on the door, she heard the distinctive, measured _thwacks_ of someone working out against one of the weighted bags the boys had hung up. The language that punctuated every blow brought a furious blush to her cheeks, and told her Lance was working out alone. Slowly she opened the door, careful to make just enough noise to alert Lance to her presence without jarring his concentration. He and Keith had sat her down early on and very carefully explained to her why it was a very bad idea to go to either extreme.

The sight that greeted her stole her breath away. Lance stood in front of a punching bag, dressed only in what the boys called gi pants, his feet bare. Sweat glistened on his chest, shining in the light as he panted for breath, and plastered his auburn hair to his head. As she stood spellbound, Allura caught a final detail that made her gasp in horror. Lance's knuckles were wrapped in tape that had apparently started out white, but was now dark red with his blood. Almost involuntarily, she took a step forward. "Lance? Lance, are you—"

"Six months," came the low voice. "Six months since I destroyed him, three since we've heard anything at all from him. I killed him, his blood's all over my hands." Lance turned to face her, eyes red and jaw heavy with the beginnings of a beard. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him lying in that damned square, I hear him struggling just to fucking _breathe. _Because of me. Because of my goddamned hot head. I killed him, sure as if I put my gun to his head and pulled the damned trigger."

"That's not true!" Allura took a step, not quite coming to Lance's side. "Lance, he _chose_ to follow you. Look. . . what did you tell me McClain's Rule no. 5 is?"

Lance gave her a sideways look. "Never go in alone. . . which I _did_, which is _why_ Sven got hurt! Thanks for the reminder, _Princess._ Hadn't figured that out on my own."

"Not my point," Allura huffed, taking the final step to put a hand on Lance's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't try to evade the contact. "YES, you should have taken one of the others with you. But. . . so should Sven. You both knew Haggar was there; he should have taken Keith with him. But. . ." she tipped his chin up so he met her eyes. "It's over and done with, Lance. Sven wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over HIS choice. Would he?"

The pilot's shoulders sagged. "No, he wouldn't. And he told me so in that message he sent. I just. . ." Allura was startled; were those _tears_ in Lance's eyes? "Gods, Angel. . . I miss him so much. He was my brother in everything but blood, more than Keith even, and . . . . and I'd give my right arm to have him back." The tears started to fall; without even thinking about it, Allura guided him to a seat on the mat, pulling him against her shoulder.

"Let it out, Lance; no one here but you and me, and I promise, no one will ever know." It was as if Lance had been waiting for permission; Allura felt his shoulders hitch once, then the dam burst. Tough, sarcastic Lance McClain cried for what seemed like hours; Allura silently held him and rocked him through it. Finally, though, he took a shuddering breath and sat up, wiping his eyes on his forearm. "Feel better?" she asked softly.

He managed a shaky version of his usual cocky grin. "A little bit. Man, I haven't cried like that since. . . I was six, and my mom died. So much for the tough guy image, huh?"

"Your secret's safe with me," Allura told him solemnly, and the grin widened. "Now, let's get you to MedTech, see about your hands."

"My hands? What about—" Lance looked down. "Oh. Oh fuck. Guess I went at it longer and harder than I thought. Don't need MedTech for this, though; I've got the stuff to patch 'em up in my room. Not the first time I've busted them."

Allura glanced down at her lap, then back up at him through her lashes, suddenly shy. "I . . . could help you with that, if you wanted?"

Lance almost refused on pure reflex; he was more than capable of taking care of things himself. But. . .there was something in Allura's eyes, a wistful hope that called to a longing he had thought buried in his heart. It had been so long since he had _any_ company other than the team, let alone the undivided attention of a pretty girl . . ."OK, Princess . . . you can be my nurse," he smiled. "Come on, let's get going."

Ten minutes later, Princess Allura took her first steps into a man's bedroom, her eyes wide. Lance's room was as chaotic as the man himself; his beloved jacket was tossed over the back of his desk chair, dirty laundry was piled in one corner, clean laundry was stacked on top of the dresser, and his bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets. The desk was piled with papers, weighted down with a wicked-looking knife; Allura remembered Keith making Lance his second after Sven's injury.

"Uh, sorry for the mess, Princess," Lance muttered, blushing almost as red as his Lion as he shoved a stack of white shirts and shorts into a dresser drawer. "Just don't have the time to clean up. Or the energy." He went into the bathroom, coming back out with a bottle and a handful of bandages. "You. . .can sit on the bed," he said nervously, perching there himself. "I never make it up, but I promise the sheets are clean."

Allura did as she was told, taking his hands in hers. "I've never seen you so nervous," she giggled. "Relax, Lance, I don't bite. Honest." Without waiting for an answer, she started unwrapping the tape on his right hand.

Lance watched her silently, drinking in the feel of her soft hands, the heady scent of her perfume as she bent over his damaged hands. It took all of his self-control not to reach out, to touch the silk of her hair and the satin of her skin. His body wanted her, badly, but. . ._Not Allura, _ he told himself firmly. _She's the Princess for fuck's sake. She deserves better than a tumble with a flyboy like you, McClain. _ "You don't have to be so gentle, I'm not going to break," he teased.

Blue eyes flashed up to meet his green ones. "I want to be gentle; I don't think you boys get nearly enough kind treatment." Allura dropped her gaze to remove the last of the tape. "You said you don't have enough energy to clean your room; what has you so tired, and don't the maids clean in here?"

Lance snorted, then flinched as Allura started cleaning his knuckles. "Answer your second question first, Angel? Nanny's given orders that the maids are to stay away from this wing. Apparently we're good enough to fight for Arus, but can't be trusted with the virtue of its women." He swallowed, surprised at his own bitterness, then continued, "As for being tired. . . we're always on call, even during our supposed down time. We never get to rest completely, even when we're hurt. Add that to the short rations we're all on, and . . . . yeah, we're hurting."

"I had no idea. . .Lance, you should have said something. I'll talk to Coran, get the maids taking care of your rooms. Nanny is being unreasonable; you four do more than enough for this kingdom, the least we can do is keep your rooms clean." Allura finished cleaning his knuckles and wrapped them; it really wasn't necessary, but Lance didn't have the heart to stop her. "There, all done. Just a little kiss to make it feel better." Lance froze; Allura, oblivious to his reaction, lifted his battered left hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his abused knuckles. "My mother used to say it was the best possible medicine," she said softly, looking away from him with a blush.

Lance decided that he was more scoundrel than noble knight of Arus. "I know a better one," he answered, just as softly. As Allura looked at him in confusion, he cupped her face in his hands and gave her the most chaste and loving kiss he could, holding his breath for a slap that never came. Finally he pulled back, telling himself that if she screamed for the guards, he wanted to die with his eyes open.

Allura was staring at him in disbelief. . .and something more. "You. . .you kissed me." He nodded slowly. "Why?"

"Because you need to be kissed, and often," Lance answered, honest and vulnerable as he had ever been. "Because. .. because I've wanted to, since I first saw you on those stairs. Allura. . . I know I'm not the prince you're meant to marry. Hell, I'm not even all that good of a guy. But. . ." He cursed softly as both their coms went off.

"Voltron Force to Castle Control immediately," came Coran's unflappable voice. "We have voice contact with an inbound Doom ship claiming to be piloted by Commander Holgersson."


End file.
